Lessons in Writing
by Angel of Iego
Summary: Obi-Wan gives Anakin a special assignment.
1. A Sound I Hear

100068744:00  
  
Words on screen. Look at that; there they are.  
  
whooooooooosh  
  
Now I do not see the point to this. I have nothing interesting to write. Is this another lesson that Obi-Wan thinks I need to learn? I bet it is. Obi-Wan's actions are all a bunch of over-calulated attempts for me to see the t r u e meaning of everything. The t r u e meaning of responsibility. The t r u e meaning of patience duty respect compassion etc etc  
  
Let's out-guess him. What is the t r u e meaning of this? By writing something everyday, I shall learn  
  
whooooooooosh   
  
well, to spell, for one. Everyone needs help spelling. Jedi need to spell correctly so they can intimidate enemies by their (is there a word for this? Spelling-knowlege? Huttese would be gulaktoosh, I think, but my Basic vocabulary is pretty limited).   
  
Jedi would defeat their enemies by spelling in so many languages that heads explode   
  
ohthisisawwwwwful  
  
I thought when I saw the box that Obi-Wan had got me something important. A new hydropanner, ultra-sensors, binocs -- something to prove that not only did he want to do something nice for my birthday, but he also knew me well enough to know what would make me happy. Something just for me. Not for his Padawan, not for Training, but for me and only me.   
  
Obi-Wan comes in and sets down the box.  
  
Well, you're fifteen.  
  
Yup.  
  
We've been together five years.  
  
Five loooong years.  
  
He looks at me like I'm laughing at him, but I'm not. He says, I got you something.  
  
Is it something I need?  
  
He smiles. Open it.  
  
I do. There's nothing in the box. I am confused.  
  
Obi-Wan is grinning. There's an air-taxi downstairs. It will take you to a landing pad. At the landing pad is a T-12 first-class that's heading to Tatooine. You know what to do from there.  
  
None of this happened of course. In the box was a journal-cube. I had an interesting idea, a new direction to take your training in.  
  
Happy birthday me.  
  
Oh, I shouldn't be writing these things in here. I am undoubtedly failing this assignment. Though Obi-Wan didn't tell me what to write -- (Fill this cube with you. I cannot tell you who you are.) -- I'm sure he didn't want me to fill it with bitter ramblings and made-up wish fulfillments that hurt more than they help. But maybe that's all I am: bitterness and silly daydreams. The daydreams aren't silly, mind you. Thay make more sense than journal-cubes, that's for sure. I'm the only one who sees it though.  
  
whooooooosh  
  
That's the sound of the T-12's engines, starting up, flaming air. The T-12 is taking me to Tatooine.  
  
On birthdays Mom would wake me up when it was still dark out. It was always very quiet the way it can only be at night. She would smile at me and hold my hand as I groggily followed her to the kitchen. She would make sweet tea (never knew where she found the wiupwiupi for the leaves) which we drank sitting on the stairs outside home. We watched the stars until the suns rose and Mom told me stories about sea monsters and princes -- things that I had never seen before, except in dreams.  
  
I've seen many of those things now. Real sea monsters, real princes. They were better in her stories. Always.  
  
And I realize that I am being unfair to Obi-Wan. He is not Mom. He would only make tea, watch sunrises, and tell stories if it served to teach me the t r u e meaning of such things. But I have learned their t r u e meanings from Mom, so now there is one less lesson for Master to teach.  
  
Obi-Wan just asked me how I'm doing with the journal.   
  
Fine, I tell him.  
  
whooooooosh  



	2. Pontificating

100068744:01  
  
What, you again? I thought I was rid of you yesterday. Ongoing assignments, bah. I don't have the patience for such things. I also don't have the patience for Galactic Economics. I'm attending a week-long seminar on Oligopolies of the Sluis Sector, and it's beginning to make my head spin. I see why this stuff is important to other people, and why it's so important to how the Republic works and so on, but it's not important to me.   
  
Obi-Wan, at this point in my rant (if I were ranting to him and not to you), would stop me and tell me that I'm being selfish. And he's probably right, though not in the way he thinks.  
  
Should I just be learning things that are important to me? I suppose not. But economics drives me up the wall. Republic Datari are apparently responsible for making planets continue to spin, or at least that's what Master Bund has been telling me at this seminar. I agree with him, but I just wish that something else would make them spin, that's all. You'd think money is as indispensible to life as the Force is. It upsets me. The Trade Federation and the Corporate Alliance and the like are dominating the galaxy, telling people how to live their lives (when the Republic should be doing this, not them) -- and it's not right. Look what happened on Naboo. I didn't understand what that was all about when I was nine, but I do now. Money, money, money.   
  
Gardulla the Hutt bet 15000 wupwiupi and five tamed banthas on a Boonta Eve Classic podrace a long time ago. Watto asked for more, so Gardulla threw in Mom (whoooooosh) and me to sweeten the deal. Master Bund can talk oligopoly all he want, but as soon as he's used as a wager along with a sack of credits and a few banthas, he may find it a bit more difficult to analyze economics so clinically.  
  
Obi-Wan has told me many times that I shouldn't use my past to elevate me above the present. I don't mean to sound superior, to use my life as a slave as moral justification for why I dislike a subject. Obi-Wan means well, but what he's saying is that I should deny who I am. And I'll never be able to do that.   
  
Being fifteen is tough.  
  
In other news: Niro gave me a pair of binocs for my birthday. Aha! Someone understands!   



End file.
